Fools Rush in(44)

We drove home, chatting about the movie. I wondered if I should invite him in. Hmm. Probably not. No, definitely not! I wanted to be different from those easy types, after all. Show Joe that I had some moral fortitude. Make him work for me a little. Make him wait.

We pulled up to my house. I could hear Digger’s insane barking.

“Great watchdog you’ve got there,” Joe said, turning to me. He looked in my eyes, then down at my…mouth. Back to my eyes.

“He is great, actually,” I answered. “And so is Tripod. What kind of dog is he?” (Three-legged, eight-year-old Golden Retriever/German shepherd mix.)

“He’s some kind of mutt. Good dog, though.” Joe smiled slowly at me. “So, Millie, are you gonna ask me to come in?” His white teeth gleamed in the dimness of the truck. He reached over and tucked some hair behind my ear.

I was on him faster than a seagull on a potato chip, kissing him with all the pent-up desire of the last half of my life. We kissed like there was no tomorrow, like we’d been separated by war, like we were the only two people left on earth and had to repopulate the world. His hands were warm on my back, and I clutched his shirt with both fists. I could dimly hear those little humming noises that kissing people make, shifting, pulling closer, sliding our hands around each other, into each other’s hair, down arms, under shirts.

The sound of the truck horn blasted us apart like guilty teenagers. I was half sitting on Joe’s lap, and apparently I’d hit the steering wheel the wrong way as I squirmed to get closer. It was just what I needed.

“Sorry!” I said, laughing a little and scootching off his lap. He smiled back.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

Yes. Come in. Come in and stay and kiss me and touch me and bang me silly. Oh, God, that was exactly what I wanted.

But I couldn’t. Not yet. My years of stalking Joe had shown that this was what happened with everyone. Who could resist this man, after all? Why make the most beautiful of God’s creations wait? It was a joy just to be near him, let alone have his hands on you, his mouth on yours.

But I was determined to be better than the rest of them. I had to stick with what I knew would work and make something better than one or two glorious nights of sex with the golden boy.

“Millie?” Joe asked. He leaned forward and kissed me again, softly. “Can I come in?”

“Um, no, Joe,” I managed to say. “Sorry. I, uh, I can’t have you come in.”

He looked surprised. “Oh. Why not?”

“Well, you know. Not that kind of girl.” Oh, please, I begged silently. Let this work.

He looked at me for a long minute, then tilted his head a little. “Not that kind of a girl, huh?” He smiled. “Well, Millie…” He ran his hand up my leg. “When do you think you will be that kind of a girl?”

I smiled and bit my lip. “I don’t know, Joe. But definitely not on the first date,” I answered, stopping the slide of his hand.

“This is our second date,” he replied in a whisper. Oh, God. My insides leaped, then knotted in a warm tug.

“Is it?” I answered, as if I didn’t know. “Well, not on the second date, either.”

He laughed. “Okay, Millie. I get the message.” He straightened up and opened his door. “I’ll walk you in, then.”

I scrambled across the truck seat and climbed down. We walked to the door, Digger’s barking becoming more hysterical by the second.

“It’s me, Digger,” I called. The barking stopped. I turned and faced Joe. “I guess I’ll see you,” I said, suddenly nervous. After all, this was taking a big chance, playing hard to get.

“Okay,” he answered. He leaned in and kissed me again, sweet, warm, slow. God, the man could kiss! I tried not to sag against the door when it was done, but it was hard.

“You busy tomorrow?” he asked.

Ha! It was working! “Um, tomorrow, well, I have to work tomorrow night…” Again, I pretended to think about when I might be free to see him again. “Maybe I could call you on Wednesday or something?”

He straightened up. “Millie, if you don’t want to see me again, just tell me, okay?”

“Oh! No, I mean, no, I don’t not want to see you—” Calm, calm, Millie. “I’d love to see you again, Joe. My schedule is just a little tricky. But I’ll call you on Wednesday and, um, see when we can get together. Is that okay?”

He smiled. “That would be great, Millie.” He kissed me quickly once more and headed off down the walk. “You got my number?” he called.

508 555 9914. “No…are you in the book?” I answered.

“Yeah. Carpenter on Thistleberry Way.”

He opened the door to his truck. “Night, Millie.”

“Good night, Joe.”

Closing the door behind me, I finally allowed my weakened knees to give out, sliding down to the floor in a happy lump of lust and triumph, hugging myself and squeaking with glee. After a few minutes, I was roused by Digger’s pathetic cries. I let him out of the cellar, assured him that I still loved him best and gave him a piece of salami as proof. Then I floated over to the phone. Katie wasn’t working tonight, and she’d told me to call her when I got home.

“Hello?” Katie answered.